


A Memory

by jehannaford



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Embarrassment, Exhibitionism, Humiliation, Lemon, Masturbation, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 11:23:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16680661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jehannaford/pseuds/jehannaford
Summary: Papa Emeritus III reflects on the only kink he has that he's not entirely comfortable with. This is his memory of the first time he became aware of it.





	A Memory

Just how long _had_ he been like this? Papa tried to remember….

Hell, the first time must’ve been that day years ago--long enough ago that his face was still unpainted and he was just plain Terzo, long enough that he was still a virgin (had he _ever_ been so young?)--he can’t have been more than eighteen.

He’d just gotten done with gym class at the Abbey school and went into a changing room to get back into regular clothes. He’d been distracted as usual, and forgotten to lock the door. 

He’d been completely stark naked when the girl had walked in on him by accident.

Both of them had blushed bright red. His face felt hot. He’d tried to cover himself with his hands, she’d stammered out an apology and fled. He’d felt so embarrassed he’d thought he would die. Hell, just the thought of her looking at him like that, completely exposed--

He’d realized then that he was as hard as a rock. When had _that_ happened? Had she seen that too?

He’d felt a wave of shame and arousal so strong it left him light-headed. His breath was ragged. He began stroking his cock, so desperate that he had to pleasure himself right then and there. He was still blushing at the thought of what had happened, still mortified, and Hell, so fucking turned on that he couldn’t _stand_ it--

He kept thinking of the look on her face, she’d blushed so prettily, her eyes were wide before she’d turned away, the weight of that stare, the agony of embarrassment he’d felt, was _still_ feeling--

He bit his lip hard when he came to hold back his cries. He shuddered with the hot hard pulse of it, the sweet throb of release. 

After, he’d tried not to think about it. There was nothing sexual that had ever made him feel reticent before, but something about this experience was different. He couldn’t untangle the shame from the arousal, and it humiliated him to have gotten so much pleasure from it. It hurt his pride somehow. He’d shied away from that. 

Looking away from it hadn’t changed anything, though. He kept going back to it, teasing himself with it--he had sex in semi-public places a lot where there was a risk of discovery. He sent his lovers risque photos, some of them taken on the sly where he could’ve been caught. Sooner or later his luck was going to run out. He didn’t want it to. He fantasized about it anyway.

Papa supposed that he’d always been like this. It was still the only thing related to sex that could ever make him blush. 

Satan help him if one of his play partners ever found out about it. He’d never live it down.


End file.
